


For Favors Large and Small

by sahiya



Series: The Ties That Bind [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Appendicitis, Bechdel Test Pass, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sara gets sick while Neal's out of town, it's up to Elizabeth to step in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Favors Large and Small

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the H/C Advent at the [White Collar H/C Community](http://whitecollarhc.livejournal.com/99217.html?style=mine&sign=8182b3408af5558d30c6d98857e53351&t=1354337759#comments). Many thanks to Fuzzyboo for the beta!

It was a rare Saturday evening that Elizabeth didn't work. One of the pitfalls of event planning was that she was on when other people were off. It worked out okay, because she could also make her own hours, and it wasn't as though Peter's job was nine to five, but she had to admit that sometimes she missed having Saturday nights free. 

And of course, the first time she had a Saturday night free in probably three months, Peter wasn't there. A case had taken him and Neal upstate, and then a storm had moved in and they'd decided to stay overnight in Albany to avoid driving back in it. 

Elizabeth sighed as she canceled their reservations at Donatello's. But she didn't sulk. She talked to Peter on the phone for a few minutes and then changed into the least attractive pair of sweats she owned, built a fire in the fireplace, and curled up on the sofa with Satchmo and a book. It was snowing outside - not as heavily in Brooklyn as in Albany, but they'd get an inch or two by morning - and it was warm and cozy inside the house. It'd have been nicer with Peter, but it wasn't bad on her own. 

She was deeply absorbed in her book when the phone rang, startling her. She glanced at the caller ID and raised her eyebrows. She picked up. "Hey, Neal.”

"Hi, El," he said, sounding a bit . . . strange, though El couldn't quite put her finger on how, exactly. 

She frowned. "Is everything okay?" 

"No," Neal said bluntly. "Don’t worry, it’s not Peter,” he added, before El could ask. “It’s Sara. She texted me this morning that she was under the weather. She said it was nothing, but when I talked to her a few minutes ago, she sounded horrible. I finally got her to admit that she was running a fever and she’d been puking all day.”

El had no trouble at all identifying the strange edge to his voice now: Neal was worried unto distraction. “I’m sure it’s just a case of food poisoning,” she said. “Or a stomach virus.”

“That’s what Sara said, but food poisoning can be dangerous. Anything can be if no one’s there to look after you. I got her to agree to go to the ER, and I called the cab for her myself, but I'm really worried about her." Neal hesitated. "El, I know the weather’s awful, but I'd feel a lot better knowing someone was with her. Please, could you meet her at the hospital and make sure she's all right?"

There was really only one possible answer. "Yes, of course," El said, even as she felt a small pang of regret for her lost cozy evening at home.

Neal let his breath out. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you. Call me when you know something?"

"I will. Everything's going to be okay, sweetie," El added, making her voice as soothing as possible. "Can I talk to Peter?"

"Yeah, hang on."

There was a brief rustling as Neal handed the phone over. Then Peter said, "Hi, hon."

"Hi, hon," El said, smiling.

"Thanks for doing this. Neal's been out of his mind."

El frowned. "Did you talk to Sara? Is it possible Neal's overreacting?"

"I did talk to her, briefly, and no, I don't think he is. It might be food poisoning or a stomach virus, but whatever it is, it's made her really sick."

El nodded. "Okay. I guess I'd better get going then."

"Drive safely, okay? Careful on the roads."

"I will be. Love you."

"Love you, too."

El hung up. The first thing to do, she decided, was to call Sara herself. The last thing Sara would want was to be blindsided by El showing up at the hospital when she wasn’t expecting it. Sara was iffy about surprises under the best of circumstances, El knew, and these certainly weren’t that. 

Sara picked up on the third ring. "Hi, Elizabeth."

Neal hadn't been exaggerating: even in those two words, Sara sounded awful. El started looking around for her shoes. "Hi, Sara. I just talked to Neal. How're you doing?"

"I'm . . . well, _fine_ would probably be a bit of a stretch, but I'm not at death's door like Neal seems to think."

"Are you on your way to the ER?"

"Yes," Sara said, sounding resentful. "I'm waiting for my cab now."

"Which hospital?" El asked, finally finding her shoes under the sofa. She'd have to put the fire out before she could leave, she realized, glancing at it. God, it was really unpleasant out.

"Lenox Hill," Sara said. And then, in a tone of great suspicion, she added, "Why?"

"Neal asked me to meet you there."

Sara made a sound that El could only describe as a growl. "Of course he did. I'm going to kill him. You don't have to do this, Elizabeth. The weather is horrible, and they're probably just going to keep me waiting for hours. I wouldn't go at all, except Neal seems to be channelling Mozzie's penchant for paranoia." 

El sighed. "Sara, don't take this the wrong way, but I really don’t blame him. You sound terrible."

"I feel terrible," Sara admitted, "but I still think this is unnecessary."

"Let's let a medical professional decide that, for everyone's sake. I’ll meet you at the hospital in . . . well, probably an hour, realistically.”

"But -"

"No arguing.”

"Okay," Sara said, and if El wasn't mistaken, she sounded just a little relieved. "My cab's here."

"Right, then. See you soon." El hung up. She glanced down at herself and realized she was still wearing the hideous sweatpants she’d chosen for her night in. Well, screw it, she decided. No one at Lenox Hill on a snowy Saturday night was going to be in any position to judge her fashion choices, not even Sara. If she was going to spend several hours sitting in a hard plastic chair, then she was going to be as comfortable as possible while doing it. 

On the other hand, she owned sweatpants that weren't _quite_ as hideous as these, and it wouldn't take her very long to change. 

***

The surface streets weren't as bad as El had feared, but she still decided that slow and steady would definitely win this race. She kept it below forty all the way across the bridge, which was more or less deserted. No one wanted to be out on a night like this. 

The snow had picked up a bit by the time she parked at the hospital and made her careful way up the slick, slushy steps into the ER. The waiting room was only half-full, and she easily found Sara, sitting off to the side with a clipboard on her lap. She sat half-hunched over, one hand pressed against her side. Her hair was pulled back into a half-hearted ponytail, and her face, when she glanced up, was the color of old milk and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“Hey,” El said, dropping into the chair beside her. “Wow, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell.”

“I feel like hell,” Sara said, hunching over even further, “and I feel worse every second I sit in this chair. I really wish they’d give me a bed, but they said it might be twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Hmm,” El said, eyeing Sara and then glancing over to the nurse’s desk. They didn’t _look_ overwhelmingly busy. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that. Did you finish your paperwork?”

“Yeah,” Sara said, and let El take the clipboard from her. 

El marched up to the nurse’s station. “Good evening,” she said, presenting the nurse with the paperwork. “My friend over there has a fever and severe abdominal pain, and we’d both really appreciate it if you could possibly find a bed for her before she keels over on the floor.” 

The nurse glanced over at Sara and pursed her lips. “I’ll see what I can do. We're busier than we look right now.” She took the paperwork from Elizabeth and turned back to her computer screen. Elizabeth didn't move, other than to cross her arms over her chest. The nurse frowned. "Is there something else you need?"

"No," El said, with a smile and a shrug. "I'm just waiting to see what you can do to get my friend a bed."

The nurse sighed and picked up the phone. El glanced over at Sara. She'd mostly said what she had about her keeling over on the floor for dramatic effect, but Sara didn't look like it was all that remote a possibility. 

The nurse hung up the phone. "Ten minutes."

“Thank you,” El said, with, she hoped, more sincerity than sarcasm. 

Only eight minutes had passed by El's watch when an orderly appeared with a wheelchair - which Sara, to El’s surprise and concern, did not protest - and wheeled Sara into the back, where she was given a curtained off cubicle with a bed and a chair for Elizabeth. Sara stretched out with a sigh of relief. The orderly disappeared, but a nurse practitioner came to take his place in surprisingly short order. She set about taking Sara’s vitals with a brisk efficiency that El, at least, found reassuring. 

“A hundred and two point seven,” she announced, as she removed the thermometer from Sara’s mouth. “And your blood pressure is a bit high, but that isn’t surprising under the circumstances. You said you’ve been vomiting?”

“Yeah, but not for a couple hours now.”

“When did it start?” 

“Last night, after dinner. I got Chinese take-out. I’m sure it’s just a mild case of food poisoning,” Sara added, “one of those things that feels worse than it is.”

“Hmm,” the nurse said, noncommitally. “So you’ve had symptoms for about twenty-four hours. Do you still feel sick to your stomach?”

“Yes, but mostly it just hurts.” Sara grimaced and rested her hand on her stomach. 

The nurse watched her closely. “I see. On a scale of zero to ten, with ten being the most pain you’ve ever been in, how would you rate your pain?”

Sara sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe an eight?”

“And where is it?” Sara pulled her shirt up to show the nurse, who frowned. “May I?” she asked, reaching with her gloved hands. Sara nodded, and the nurse felt around carefully until Sara gasped. The nurse glanced at her sharply. “It hurts when I press here?” 

“Yes,” Sara said, wincing. 

“Okay.” The nurse made a note on Sara’s chart. “The doctor will be in with you shortly.”

El cleared her throat. “Should I get her some water or tea or something?”

The nurse shook her head. “No, nothing by mouth until after the doctor sees her. But he’ll order IV fluids and a morphine drip.” She left, pulling the curtain shut behind her. 

There was a beat of silence. “Well, this is fun,” Sara said with a sigh. “I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” El said, reaching out to cover Sara’s hand with her own. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“That doesn’t mean you wanted to do _this_. And it’ll probably end up being nothing in the end.”

Elizabeth thought about the look on the nurse’s face during the brief exam. Somehow, she didn’t think it would end up being nothing. But she wasn’t going to argue with Sara about that just now. “We’ll just have to see, I guess. I don’t mind being here, you know. This is the sort of thing friends are for.”

“I know,” Sara sighed. “It’s just . . . embarrassing.”

_Why embarrassing?_ El wanted to ask, but before she could, the curtain of the cubicle swished back.

“Good evening, I’m Dr. Park,” the doctor said, eyes trained mostly on Sara’s chart in his hand. He looked up at last. “You must be Ms. Ellis.” He offered her his hand and Sara shook it. He glanced at El. “And you are?”

“Moral support,” El said with a smile. “Should I step out?”

“Yes, thank you. This shouldn’t take long.” 

El left the cubicle and wandered back down the hall toward the vending machines she’d seen earlier. She wasn’t hungry, but she got a bottle of water and made a mental note that one of the others sold coffee. She suspected she was going to be here for quite some time. 

Her phone buzzed on her way back to Sara’s cubicle. She glanced at it and was entirely unsurprised to see a text from Neal. He’d written, _What’s going on?_

El shook her head, then typed back, _She’s in with the doctor now. Will let you know what he says._

The curtain was pushed back a few inches when El returned, so she poked her head through. The doctor was gone already, but the nurse had reappeared and was putting an IV in Sara’s arm. Sara was sitting up against her pillows, looking pale and stunned. 

“Well,” El said, “what’s the verdict?”

Sara swallowed. “He says - God, this is so ridiculous. He says I have appendicitis. That’s not - I have food poisoning!”

“No, dear,” the nurse said calmly. “You have appendicitis. But don’t worry,” she patted Sara’s shoulder, “you’ll start to feel much better very soon. We need to confirm the diagnosis with an ultrasound, but then it won’t be more than an hour or so before we get you into surgery.”

“Jeez,” Elizabeth said, once the nurse had gone. “I guess it’s a good thing you came in.”

“That’s what the doctor said.” Sara frowned at her. “You don’t look surprised.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I had appendicitis in college. I remember what it was like and where it hurt.”

Sara sighed. “This is humiliating.”

“Why? It’s not like you did anything to cause it.”

“I guess not. Maybe _humiliating_ is the wrong word. Maybe _undignified_ is better. Either way, I hate it.” Sara slumped, scowling. 

Elizabeth reached out to squeeze her hand. “Wait till the morphine kicks in. You’ll hate it less then.”

Sara gave a weak laugh, then winced, her free hand stealing to her side. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be such a grouch. You’re going above and beyond by being here.”

El squeezed her hand again. “You have appendicitis, you’re allowed to be a grouch. And I know it must really suck that Neal isn’t here.” It had sucked for Elizabeth in college. She’d been a thousand miles away from her parents with only a handful of flakey friends to depend upon. Fortunately, all it had taken was a phone call and her parents had been on the next flight to New York. 

Sara closed her eyes. “Oh God, Neal. He’s going to freak out,” she sighed, letting her head loll on the pillow. “It’s funny, if he was here, he wouldn’t, but I know, I _know_ he’s going to freak out because this is happening, and he’s so far away. Not that he could do anything if he was here, but . . .”

“But when something like this happens to someone you love, the last thing you want is to be getting the information second hand,” Elizabeth said, gently. “I’m sure I’d feel the same if something happened to Peter while I was away.”

“Yeah.” Sara blinked then, long and slow. “Wow. Morphine just kicked in. Oh. That’s so much better.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I bet.” She hesitated, thinking of the weeks after her kidnapping, when she and Peter had both had good days and bad, and when their bad days had coincided - well, she just hadn’t had the spoons (as a friend of hers had put it) to deal with his anxiety on top of her own. Right now, Sara didn’t have the spoons to deal with Neal’s anxiety. “Sara, if you want, I can call Neal.”

“Oh.” Sara looked at her, eyes glassy and unfocused. “No, I should do it . . .”

El shook her head. “Let me. That way, he can freak out at me, and once he’s done, you can talk to him.”

Sara took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s . . . that sounds like a good idea.” El nodded and stood, gathering up her purse and her cell phone but leaving her coat. “Hey,” Sara added, “I might fall asleep, but if I do, wake me up. I want to talk to him.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I will. Be right back, all right?” Sara nodded. 

El walked back toward the vending machines, dialing Neal’s number as she went. He picked up on the first ring. “El?” he said. 

Preambles would only make things worse. “First of all, Sara’s okay. She wants to talk to you, but they just put her on morphine and she’s a little out of it.”

“If she’s on morphine, she’s not okay,” Neal said. “What’s wrong? What did the doctor say?”

El took a deep breath. “The doctor thinks she has appendicitis.”

“ _What_?” Neal yelped. El winced. “Appendicitis? Are they sure?”

“Pretty sure,” El said. “They’re going to confirm that with some more tests and then take her into surgery. But she’s going to be fine, Neal, really,” she added. “Appendectomies are completely routine.”

“Routine? _Routine_? There’s nothing routine about this! My girlfriend is going to have surgery and I’m trapped in this godforsaken hotel in this godforsaken town.” Neal swore colorfully, and El raised her eyebrows. There was a thump, as of something being thrown - against a wall, she hoped. Peter said something to him sharply, though El couldn’t quite make it out. 

Neal didn’t reply - to El or to Peter, as far as she could tell. She waited patiently for nearly a minute, but when he still didn’t say anything, she prompted, "Neal?"

"Sorry," he said in a low, tired voice. "I’m sorry. It's just - this is making me crazy.”

“I get that,” El said. “But she really is going to be fine. They caught it in plenty of time. People have appendectomies every day. I had one in college, in fact."

"You did?"

"Yup. Peter knows the story. Ask him to tell you about it. Anyway, she's doing a lot better now that they have her on painkillers. Do you want to talk with her?"

"Please."

"Okay. But promise me -”

“I won’t freak out,” Neal said, “I swear.”

“Good. Hang on a second." El turned and went back toward Sara's cubicle. She must have been lying with her eyes closed, but she opened them slightly when El pushed the curtain back. "It's Neal," El said, holding the phone out to her. 

"Thanks," Sara said, and gestured her into the chair when El went to duck out again. El shrugged and sat down. 

"Hey, Neal," Sara murmured into the phone. "Yeah, can you believe it?" She paused and rolled her eyes, lips quirking in a faint smile, "Yes, I will now admit that you were right to make me come in."

El suppressed a smile. She pulled a paperback out of her purse and tried not to eavesdrop too blatantly on their conversation. She did hear Sara laugh twice, albeit gingerly, and then promise to have El call or text Neal with anything new. "But promise me that no matter what, you won't come back before the roads are safe," Sara added. "I'm counting on you to fetch and carry for me for at least a week." She paused. "You should listen to Peter. He's a smart man."

An orderly entered then, wheeling an ultrasound machine on a cart. Sara glanced at it. "Hey, they need to run some more tests. I'm going to hand you back to El." She smiled. "You, too, Conman."

El took the phone back. "Neal?"

"Thank you," Neal said, with no preliminaries, "for being with her. You'll stay, won't you? I know it's a lot to ask, but -"

"Of course I will," El said. "And like Sara said - don't drive back until the roads are safe."

"I can't, actually," Neal said, sounding faintly aggrieved. "Peter hid the car keys. But it's supposed to let up by tomorrow morning, according to the forecast. I'm hoping we'll be back by tomorrow afternoon."

"Good. Now get some sleep, all right? I'll text if anything changes."

"I'll try."

They hung up just as Sara's doctor came back in to run the ultrasound. It took El a minute to realize that Sara's hand, lying palm-up on the edge of the mattress, was actually an invitation. El scooted her chair forward, careful to stay out of the doctor's way, and slipped her hand into Sara's. 

It didn't take long for Dr. Park to confirm that Sara did, indeed, have appendicitis. Things moved very quickly after that. A nurse came in to prep Sara for surgery, and El stepped outside again. When she was allowed back, she found that Sara had changed into a hospital gown that made her complexion, already wan from exhaustion and pain, truly ghastly. 

Sara must have realized it, too, because she gave El a glassy-eyed smile and said, "What do you think? Everyone'll be wearing it at next year's Fashion Week."

El smiled. "For sure. How're you feeling?"

Sara shrugged one shoulder. "I think I should be nervous, but I'm pretty stoned. But I was thinking -- I really appreciate you staying, but I'm going to be in surgery for a couple hours and then they're not going to let you see me for a couple more. I'm sure you don't want to go back to Brooklyn in this weather, but do you want to maybe borrow my apartment for a few hours to get some sleep?"

"Oh," El said, blinking. That almost made sense. Sara's apartment was just on the other side of the park. It was past midnight now, and she was, she had to admit, exhausted. She'd be a lot more useful to Sara in the morning if she got a few hours of sleep. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Keys are in my purse." 

El retrieved them, then sat back down. "Thanks."

Sara shook her head. "Thank _you_. Really, I . . . I know I said you didn't have to, and you don't, but . . . I'm really glad you did."

El frowned. "Me, too. I'd hate the thought of you doing this alone."

Sara shrugged. "I would've been okay. I did a lot of things alone before I met Neal."

"But you don't have to anymore," El said, gently. "That's the point of having a partner - and having friends."

"I know," Sara said, "but sometimes I still think it's easier - I'm not very good at being, I don't know . . . vulnerable, I guess. It's . . ."

"Undignified?" El suggested.

"Yeah. Part of me would prefer it if you weren't here to see me like this. But most of me is really grateful you are." Her voice went rough and wavery at the end, and she swallowed. 

"Hey," El scooted closer to the bed, "it's like I said before. This is what friends do. Neal called me because he knew you wouldn't, and he knew I'd want to be here." Sara nodded, pressing her lips together. "But I know what you mean," El added with a smile. "I'm not sure I'd be okay with Neal seeing me in a hospital gown."

Sara laughed shakily. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

El grinned. "Thank heaven for small favors, right?"

"Right," Sara agreed. Her hand tightened briefly on El's. 

***

Sara's apartment was freezing when El arrived there at half-past one in the morning. She found the thermostat and turned the heat up, then made herself a cup of herbal tea in the kitchen while she waited for it to warm up. The nurse at the front desk had told her to come back at nine, by which point Sara would be in a regular room and able to see visitors. That left El a surprisingly reasonable number of hours to sleep.

Warmer at last, she managed to rustle up a comforter from the front closet and a couple pillows off Sara's bed to make up a bed on the sofa. She took off her bra and curled up under the comforter with her cell phone in hand. 

_Are you awake?_ she texted Peter. There wasn't any reason he would be, but she had a feeling, somehow. And she wanted to hear his voice for a few minutes before she went to sleep.

Within thirty seconds, her phone rang. "Hey, hon," Elizabeth said.

"Hey, hon," Peter said in a low voice. 

"Did Neal finally get to sleep?"

"Yep. I'm hiding in the bathroom so I don't wake him up. How's Sara?"

"In surgery. She gave me her apartment key so I could crash for a few hours."

"Good idea." Peter groaned. "God, what a night."

"You're telling me. I bet you had the harder time of it, though. Neal must've driven you nuts."

"Yeah, he sort of did," Peter said, "but I kept imagining how I would feel if it were you. I'd be out of my mind, too."

"Yeah." El paused, thinking. "They're serious, aren't they? I mean, I knew they were, after everything that happened last year, but sometimes it's hard to tell." 

"They are serious," Peter said. "I know Neal's thought about popping the question once the anklet's off, but he's not sure what'd she'd say. I told him he should talk about it with her - romantic gestures aside, a marriage proposal shouldn't really be a surprise."

El smiled. "That's good advice."

"Well, I do my best, despite his penchant for making the worst possible decision at any given moment."

"He seems to be getting a little better about that."

"He is. Sara's helping. He has a reason now for wanting to stay on the straight and narrow." Peter yawned. "Well, I should get some sleep. Neal's going to want to get on the road as early as possible tomorrow. I imagine we'll come straight to the hospital."

"I'll see you then. Have a good night, hon."

"You too, hon."

El felt mostly human when she walked into Sara's hospital room the next morning, having slept seven hours and availed herself of Sara's shower with its excellent water pressure. She found Sara awake but staring blankly out the window, with a bowl of untouched broth on a tray in front of her. 

"Hey," El said softly, so as not to startle her. "Good morning. How're you feeling?"

Sara turned to smile at El, but her reaction was about a half-second delayed. "Okay. Drugged."

El smiled and dropped into the bedside chair. It was a marked improvement from the one in the ER. "I bet."

"You sleep okay?"

El nodded. "Your couch is comfortable. And your shower is a dream."

Sara gave her a somewhat dopey smile. "I know." 

She yawned, eyelids drooping, and El patted her hand. "Tell you what. I'm going to go buy us the worst gossip magazines the gift shop has to offer. You sleep when you want and in between I'll read you the juiciest bits aloud. How does that sound?"

"That sounds amazing," Sara said, her eyes already sliding shut. 

El spent most of the morning peaceably reading her novel while Sara slept. She woke around eleven, when the nurse came in to take her vital signs, but fell asleep again almost immediately. When she woke again just after two, she looked considerably more alert. She used the bed controls to sit up and listened with an amused, if rather glazed-over, smile as El read aloud overdramatic tidbits from unnamed sources about Kirsten Stewart and Robert Pattinson's break-up and reconciliation. Then they moved on to Lindsay Lohan’s latest disastrous court appearance and Kim Kardashian’s latest publicity stunt-slash-marriage, and by the time Sara dropped off again El had remembered why she never read celebrity gossip. 

She’d finished her novel and was considering going downstairs to buy another one from the gift shop, when someone cleared their throat. El glanced up to see Neal in the threshold to Sara’s room, holding a very large bouquet in one hand. “Hey,” he said quietly. 

“Hey,” El said, standing. She hugged him. “How was the drive?”

“Awful,” Neal said. “Peter’s parking the car. How’s Sara?”

“Not too bad. Tired and sore, I think. She’ll be glad to see you.”

“Should I wait or . . . ?”

El glanced back toward Sara. “No, wake her up. I think she’d want you to. I'll just give you guys a couple minutes, okay?"

Neal nodded. "Thanks." 

Just outside Sara’s room, El paused. Peter would have frowned at her for eavesdropping, but after being privy to the drama all night, she rather thought she’d earned the right to hear the ending. 

Sara woke with a sleepy sigh. “Mmmph. Hey, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” Neal agreed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better now. I missed you, Conman.”

“I missed you, too, Repo. You scared the hell out of me. The first time I leave my radius in, literally, _years_ , and you get appendicitis."

"I know," Sara said, her voice oddly gentle. “But I only have - had - one appendix. So I guess that’s the good news, right?”

Neal laughed, low and a little pained. El smiled to herself and wandered off down the hallway. 

She used the bathroom, then filled up her water bottle at the small water cooler near the nurses’ station. She was dawdling to give Neal and Sara a bit more time, when the elevator doors dinged open. She glanced up to see Peter emerge. She grinned and went to greet him with a kiss and a hug. "Welcome back," she said, tilting her head back to look up at him. "How was the drive?"

"Long. How's Sara?"

"Drugged. And very happy to see Neal."

"I bet." Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and walked with her back to Neal's room. He rapped on the doorframe, then leaned in with one hand over his eyes. "All clear?" he asked. El suppressed a laugh, even as she peeked past him. Neal had hitched himself onto the narrow hospital bed, she saw, and wrapped one arm around Sara’s back; Sara was curled up into him, her head resting on his shoulder. 

"Very funny, Peter," Sara said."You can come in."

Peter dropped his hand with a smile. "Hey Sara. How're you feeling?"

"Better, thanks."

"Good, glad to hear it."

"Do you two need anything?" El asked.

Sara and Neal exchanged a glance. "No, I think we're okay," Sara said. "Thanks, El. For everything." 

"No problem." El went to gather her stuff up, then impulsively bent to give Sara a hug. Sara hugged her back, a bit awkwardly because of the angle. "Call if you need anything, all right? Either of you," she added, looking Neal in the eye. 

"We will," Neal said, then added, "Ah, Peter -"

"You know," Peter said, putting his hands in his pockets, "I'm going to be pretty tied up with paperwork tomorrow. Probably Tuesday and Wednesday, too. Why don't you stay home - or wherever - and I send over some cold cases for you look at?"

Neal smiled. "Thanks, Peter." 

El slipped her hand into Peter's as they walked out together. "You're a good man, Peter Burke," she said with a smile. 

Peter sighed. "Don't I know it."

***

A week later, El came back to the office after a client meeting to find a surprise on her desk: an exquisite potted orchid, with beautiful, perfectly formed white petals tinged with dark pink. 

"Yeah, that came while you were out," Yvonne said. "Who's it from? I always pegged Peter for a roses kind of guy."

"He is," El said, reaching for the card.

_Thank heaven for small favors - and for really big ones, too. I don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you._

_Sara_

"Well?" Yvonne said. "Have you got a secret admirer?"

El smiled. "No," she said, picking up the orchid. It'd look lovely on her windowsill. "Just a friend."

_Fin._


End file.
